


lonely eyes been watching me

by akaparalian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jealous Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: He looks up again, out of some sort of morbid, self-sacrificing curiosity, just in time to see the guy lean in and put his hand on Shiro's chest, in a transparently solicitous move that has Keith stiffening in his seat, his teeth gritting in an almost-growl, his blood boiling hot. His reaction is so strong, in fact, and so almost-but-not-quite unexpected — if nothing else, he takes himself by surprise with the intensity of it, the burning — that it takes him a moment to realize that Shiro's reaction isn't all that different from his own.





	lonely eyes been watching me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonster/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Bonster!! I saw "pining that is reciprocated" and "jealousy spurring to action" in your prompt and the idea for this fic popped into my head almost instantly. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Title from "Close to You" by Neon Trees.

The guy has been staring at Shiro for almost ten minutes now.

Keith’s pretty sure no one else has noticed. _Shiro_ certainly doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s sitting at the edge of their booth, and his attention seems to be mostly on the conversation Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Allura are having, which Keith lost track of a long time ago, and the stranger whose eyes are trained on Shiro’s profile is sitting at the bar, nursing a drink.

It’s fine, or that’s what Keith has been telling himself for the past ten minutes, anyway. This isn’t exactly the first time Shiro’s gotten attention and attraction from strangers while Keith’s around to see it. It’s not like he can really blame the guy; Shiro is spectacular, and Keith’s not the only one who can see that, even from across a crowded room. And regardless, he doesn’t have any right to feel upset, or… possessive. For one thing, it’s not like the stranger is doing anything except for looking. For another, Shiro isn’t _his_ to feel possessive of.

Still. Knowing that and feeling it are two different things.

Not for the first time — hell, not for the first time _tonight_ — Keith gives himself a firm mental shake, trying his best to refocus on the conversation his friends are having, or _anything_ other than his stupid, pointless… _If you’re not ever going to suck it up and say something to him_ , he tells himself, frowning, half-paying attention to the story Hunk’s currently telling about one of his coworkers, _then you don’t get to be upset, especially over something stupid like this_.

God, the guy is on the _other side of the room._ Keith really is getting to be ridiculous.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts, his increasingly self-pitying inner dialogue interrupted by a nudge to his side. He startles a little and turns.

It’s Shiro, of course; they’re pressed up against one another just a little, side by side in a booth that wasn’t really made to fit six people. It’s Shiro, and he’s smiling at Keith, crooked and soft and familiar; he leans in so that his mouth is nearly brushing Keith’s ear, and Keith shuts his eyes against the sensation of lips so close to brushing his skin.

“Do you need anything?” Shiro asks him, low and close under the din of their friends’ conversation and the general hubbub of the bar. “I was going to go get a drink.”

Keith shakes his head, rather than trying to fight to be heard himself, and he shoots Shiro a tiny smile of thanks for asking, but he also can’t help the way his eyes long to flick back to that guy at the bar. The guy who’s been staring. 

It’s not his business, he reminds himself as Shiro smiles quickly back at him and then shimmies his way out of their booth and starts to wind his way through the crowd to the bar. It’s not his business if some guy is staring at Shiro; it’s not his business if Shiro notices, if they strike up a conversation, if they end up hitting it off, if Shiro takes him home. And if even the thought of that makes anger and jealousy flare up under his skin, then he needs to get that the fuck under control, because it feels almost like a betrayal of Shiro’s trust, to be harboring something like that when they’ve only ever been friends.

He still watches, though, as Shiro crosses the room and sidles up to the bar, catching the bartender's attention and saying something, though he's turned away, so Keith can't read his lips to find out what. The staring guy is a ways away still, separated from Shiro by several people, but as Keith watches — and Keith, unfortunately for his own peace of mind, can't help but to watch — he starts to work his way closer to Shiro, who's waiting for his drink.

Keith forces himself to look away, tries desperately to focus on anything else — literally anything — and, by and large, fails. He spends a few seconds valiantly trying to pay attention to his friends' conversation, but he's missed enough of it at this point that he's totally lost now, and anyway, nothing Lance or Hunk or any of them could possibly say could hold even a tenth of the almost magnetic pull of Shiro, even from all the way across the room, even with his back turned to Keith, even with — 

Even with that guy talking to him, smiling a one-night-stand smile and leaning fully into Shiro's space.

Keith swallows, hard, and stares down at the table instead of staring across the room. He can't just leave — it'll be obvious if he just suddenly leaves, suspicious, and he doesn't really want to have to answer anyone's questions or knowing glances right now — but he also suddenly can't stand to be breathing the same air as Shiro and that guy. 

He looks up again, out of some sort of morbid, self-sacrificing curiosity, just in time to see the guy lean in and put his hand on Shiro's chest, in a transparently solicitous move that has Keith stiffening in his seat, his teeth gritting in an almost-growl, his blood boiling hot. His reaction is so strong, in fact, and so almost-but-not-quite unexpected — if nothing else, he takes himself by surprise with the intensity of it, the burning — that it takes him a moment to realize that Shiro's reaction isn't all that different from his own.

Shiro rears back a little, smiling a polite but slightly strained smile and clearly not at all enthused with this turn of events, and Keith still can't tell what either of them is saying, but the stranger clearly doesn't take the hint. He just closes the space between them again, putting his hand on Shiro's upper arm this time — the flesh arm, not the prosthetic, and Keith can't quite decide if that's better or worse than the alternative — and leans in, until they must be all but breathing the same air, speaking into Shiro's ear in what seems almost a bitter parody of Shiro murmuring into Keith's only a few minutes ago.

"Keith?" someone asks from behind him, suddenly, and Keith whips around, trying to pretend he wasn't staring across the room. When he turns, though, all of his friends have clearly noticed not only his staring, but Shiro's situation, too. All of their eyes are trained across the room, and none of them look pleased.

"Do you think we should go bail him out?" Hunk asks, sounding somewhere between concerned and affronted. "That guy seems like he can _not_ take a hint."

“You can say that again,” Pidge mutters. “What a creep.”

“I’ll go,” Keith hears himself say, before he takes a second to really think about whether or not that’s a good idea. Everyone else is nodding, though, and Allura in particular shoots him an approving little look and nods in Shiro’s direction in what Keith supposes is probably supposed to be encouragement. Rather than stop and think too long about what that might mean, Keith finds himself up and out of his seat and halfway across the room almost before he can blink, his eyes still fixed on Shiro — and the stranger, who’s now got _both_ hands on Shiro’s shoulders despite the fact that Shiro looks about three seconds from decking him.

It’s not that Keith doesn’t know that Shiro can take care of this himself. He’s _well_ aware that if Shiro needs to ward this guy off, he’s got a right hook that’s more than nice enough to do the job. But Keith knows just as well that Shiro would prefer _not_ to get in a bar fight, or even to throw just one punch, if there’s another solution; no doubt he’s already tried just _telling_ the guy to go away, though clearly that hasn’t worked. So, if Shiro using his words hasn’t worked, then Keith is going to give it a try. With a little… extra.

He doesn’t let himself stop to think, he just acts, which is, after all, sort of his specialty.

“Hey, here you are,” he says as he comes up behind Shiro, completely ignoring the guy who’s still half hanging off of him. So far, that’s fine, but for once — just this once — Keith doesn’t stop himself at just hovering a friendly distance away; with the stranger’s hands still on Shiro’s shoulders, Keith winds his own arm around Shiro’s waist, forcing the guy out of the way and putting himself in Shiro’s bubble instead. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He can _feel_ the way Shiro jolts at his touch, but rather than do any of the things Keith might have expected — rather than lean away, or shove Keith off of him, or stiffen — Shiro leans _into_ him, putting himself more firmly in Keith’s sphere, more away from the stranger.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro says, his voice full of obvious relief.

The stranger isn’t hanging off of Shiro’s shoulders anymore, but he hasn’t exactly backed away, either; he’s looking at both of them now with a mildly speculative look in his eye, but then his gaze focuses back on Shiro. “Who’s this?”

“This is Keith,” Shiro starts to say, his voice tight, “my —”

“His boyfriend,” Keith interrupts, and though the bar doesn’t quiet and the world doesn’t stop, inside his head it feels like the whole room has frozen, like you could hear a pin drop halfway to Mars.

How long has he thought about what it would be like to say that about Shiro, to say that about _them_? And now that he finally gets the chance, not only is it not real, but it’s all just because of some jerk at a bar. Keith takes a deep breath just in time to realize that Shiro is nodding as though this is something he expected, not something that’s as far out of left field as it’s possible to be.

The stranger doesn’t seem to have noticed anything’s out of the ordinary, either; he doesn’t even have the fucking grace to look a little ruffled, he just glances at Keith for half a second and raises an eyebrow. Or maybe, Keith thinks a little grimly, he’s just not buying it. “Well, your boyfriend is quite a specimen.”

There are about half a dozen things Keith wants to say to that — at _least_ half a dozen — and the sheer, point-blank objectification nearly makes his blood boil. It’s certainly a distraction from the way he feels like he’s about to buzz out of his skin with wanting to understand and decode Shiro’s reaction — Shiro’s non-reaction, really — to being called his boyfriend. He counts backwards from ten in his head, grits his teeth, and then says shortly, “I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re understanding what I mean.”

The guy opens his mouth, his eyes taking on a distinct leer that has Keith steeling himself to say something along the lines of _I don’t share_ , which is a level of possessive above anything he’s really comfortable with, except he doesn’t get the chance, because Shiro interrupts him. 

It takes Keith several seconds of having Shiro’s lips on his own to even cotton on to what’s happening; it feels like his head is filled with static, and his eyes are wide open for a moment, which probably isn’t helping to sell the impression that this is something that happens to him regularly. By the time it really sinks in that this is happening — Shiro is kissing him; Shiro’s lips are a little chapped, and they tug at his as Shiro slowly, carefully moves against him — it’s almost over, and Keith only gets an instant to truly savor it before Shiro is pulling away.

They stare at each other for a moment, hovering with just a few inches of space between their lips; there’s something unreadable in Shiro’s eyes, and then before Keith can even hope to begin decoding it, Shiro is turning away altogether to face back toward the guy who’s been the catalyst for all of this.

“What he means,” he says, locking eyes with the stranger for only a second, “is go away. I already told you, I’m not interested.”

The guy raises his hands in surrender, looking a little pissed, but luckily deciding to _finally_ leave them — leave Shiro — alone, rather than make a fuss. But neither Keith nor Shiro even watches him leave. The instant he’s done talking, Shiro turns back to face Keith like he can’t help himself; his eyes are still a little clouded, and they’re travelling rapidly over Keith’s face like he’s looking for something, though the worried set of his mouth says he’s maybe not even sure what it is he’s trying to find. 

Keith can’t stop looking at him, either. His heart feels like it’s about to beat its way right out his chest. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, can’t think of anything to say, closes his mouth again, and eyes the bottles behind the bar wistfully.

“Um,” Shiro says finally, breaking the silence between them; though he’s been desperately trying to think of a way to do it himself, Keith startles. “I’m — sorry about that. I mean, I figured you started the whole thing, so it was probably fine, but — I still should have asked. I’m sorry.”

“No — no, uh, it’s okay,” Keith says. _More than okay,_ he thinks. “I don’t — I didn’t mind.” _Understatement of the century._ “I mean — wow, though. Talk about convincing. _I_ almost believed we were dating.”

The instant the words are out of his mouth, he’s cringing internally; God, of all the stupid things to say, of all the ways to take the idea of convincing Shiro that nothing is out of the ordinary and then punt it into the stratosphere…

But Shiro doesn’t seem upset, or weirded out. Oddly, he blushes a little, ducks his head, and laughs. If Keith didn’t know any better, he would almost think… well. Keith _does_ know better, is the point.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, peeking up at Keith from under his eyelashes, which has the surely unintentional effect of sending Keith to the brink of swooning like a Victorian maiden. “It felt pretty convincing from my end, too.”

“Convincing,” Keith echoes, staring at Shiro completely unblinking, with his mouth hanging slightly open. “I mean. I mean, I almost thought…”

Shiro sucks in a short, sharp breath, tilting his head up to meet Keith’s eyes more fully. They’re still standing pretty close together, but now he leans in even closer, almost swaying into Keith’s space, their chests nearly brushing — close enough that it’s not so much of a struggle to be heard, though that could partially be from the way Keith’s eyes keep darting to Shiro’s lips, reading the shape of every word before it even leaves his mouth.

“Almost thought what?” Shiro half-whispers, and sure enough, Keith probably would have had to ask him to repeat himself if not for the fact that his eyes are fixed on Shiro’s lips, now only occasionally darting up to meet his eyes.

“You were — you were — was that real?” Keith blurts, scarcely breathing, his cheeks burning crimson and hot. But now that the words have started tumbling out, there’s no stopping them, everything falling from his lips as though he’s no longer in control at all. “Was that real for you?”

Shiro shivers; they’re standing close enough together that Keith can feel it in his own bones. “Yes,” he says quietly, nervous but also almost anticipatory. 

_He knows,_ Keith thinks, but though he’d always thought that Shiro discovering the true extent of his feelings would be a moment of terror, or at least embarrassment, the thought now sends a jolt of adrenaline through him, because Shiro’s staring at his lips, too. Shiro kissed _him_ , he reminds himself, when he didn’t have to — _really_ didn’t have to. There are a million other ways he could have resolved that situation, but he picked _that_ one.

“It was real for me, too,” Keith breathes, and takes the opportunity to lean in and seal their lips together again.

It’s better this time, for a number of reasons. In no small part, it’s better because Keith is with the program from the get-go, leaning in to cup Shiro’s jaw with one hand and parting his lips eagerly. It’s also better because they’re on the same page now, both thrumming with something that Keith honestly never thought he could actually have. Shiro’s tongue sweeps into his mouth and Shiro groans, low in his chest, and Keith doesn’t even care about the show they’re giving to the rest of the bar, or the fact that their friends are probably watching this, or that they’ve gone from zero to sixty fast enough to have his heart pounding in his throat and heat boiling low in his gut; all he can focus on is the heat of Shiro against him and around him, Shiro’s hands coming to settle on his waist and in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging until he has to swallow back a moan that’s entirely inappropriate for their current setting.

He pulls back gasping, feeling a little lightheaded from a lack of oxygen, his eyes snapping open again to stare up into Shiro’s face.

“Oh my God,” he says, dazed. “How — how long?”

Shiro blushes prettily, but he also grins, a coy expression that has Keith wanting to lean up and kiss him even more thoroughly. He’s more interested in actually hearing what Shiro has to say, though, so he manages to restrain himself.

“How long?” Shiro echoes. “Well… I mean, it’s been, what. Five years since we met?”

The bar spins, and Keith actually chokes on air for a second. 

“ _Since we met?”_ he chokes, almost flailing to grab at Shiro’s arms. “We could have been doing that this _whole fucking time?_ ”

Shiro blinks, and Keith can take a little bit of comfort, at least, in the fact that he looks about as shocked as Keith feels, his eyes going wide as dinner plates as though Keith’s words have hit him as a physical blow.

“Wait,” he says, stuttering just a tiny bit. “You, too?”

“‘Me, too,’” Keith parrots, disbelievingly. “Obviously. I think you were the only person on the planet who didn’t notice. I don’t exactly do _subtle_ , Shiro.”

“Hey!” Shiro protests, though there’s a grin as wide as the Pacific creeping over his face. “You’re one to talk. Did you ever stop to think about why none of my relationships in the past five years have lasted longer than two months?”

“Unbelievable,” Keith says, but he’s grinning, too. He leans in to kiss Shiro again, this time short and sweet — or, at least, that’s his intent, though it lingers for a few seconds with neither of them quite wanting to pull away. 

By the time they do separate, Keith leaning back onto his heels — why is it that the fact that he has to go up on his tiptoes to kiss Shiro makes doing so feel even better? — people have started to clear a little bubble around them. PDA does tend to have that effect, Keith supposes. He looks up into Shiro’s eyes, and this time he has no trouble reading the emotions that are underlying in the tilt of his mouth and the set of his brows.

“So,” Shiro says, very quietly, and again Keith has to watch his lips to be sure he’s catching all the words. “Does this mean that if I were to ask you to ditch our friends right now and see if we can find somewhere that’s still open for dinner, you’d say yes?”

Keith glances across the room, where, just as he’d suspected, their friends are doing a very poor job of pretending they’re not watching what’s happening with a great amount of excitement. He smirks at them for just a second, rolling his eyes, and then looks back at Shiro. He bites his lip, frowning a little like he’s considering it, though from the way Shiro grins fondly down at him, it’s a pretty transparent move. Oh, well. He’ll just have to switch tactics, then.

“I don’t know,” Keith says, leaning up for another kiss. “Why don’t you find out?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://floralegia.tumblr.com), [Twitter](http://twitter.com/akaparalian), and [Dreamwidth](https://akaparalian.dreamwidth.org).


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